Thighs and Lows and Highs
by DarthMittens
Summary: Harry, Head Boy of Hogwarts following his victory over Voldemort, confiscates a picture of Hermione that she didn't know was being taken at the time, completely and utterly unaware of the feelings it will surface within him. H/Hr. One-Shot. Fluff! Enjoy.


**A/N: My last story was sappy and cute. This time I tried for something a little more titillating. Gotta push those boundaries of comfort! Enjoy!**

 **Thighs and Lows and Highs**

Harry whistled a merry tune as he walked into the castle with his broom slung over his shoulder. He was muddy and soaked to the bone, as he had just finished a November Quidditch practice, but he was happy. Voldemort was dead, the Death Eaters had all been rounded up, and he was finally living out his dream of being a normal, albeit a bit famous, seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Practice had gone quite well despite the rain — Dean Thomas had put in a lot of work during the year-long hiatus and was now a force to be reckoned with at the Chaser position, and Ron was showing more consistent brilliance as a Keeper. Harry would even cautiously say that Ron was as good as Oliver Wood had been at his best. Everything was good.

Ginny had even seemed like her old self during practice. She and Harry had gone out for a month, and when he had ended their relationship at the start of the school year (Harry just felt that it didn't feel _right_ , though he didn't know why), Ginny withdrew into an antisocial shell and hardly ever smiled. Harry had felt horrible, but after multiple assurances from Hermione and Ron that he was doing the right thing if he didn't like her like she liked him — they had gone through something similar after only a month of dating — he had learned to put it behind him and tried to give Ginny some space.

Harry had felt Ginny opening back up to him little by little in recent weeks, but today was the day where she seemed to be completely over him. They had laughed and joked during practice like they had done before they dated.

To top things off, he was even going to spend some time with Teddy this weekend — Andromeda was bringing him to Hogsmeade so her grandson and his godfather could bond a little.

Things really couldn't have been any better.

Harry tickled a suit of armor right under its chin and it hopped aside, granting him access to a shortcut that popped him out only a few hallways away from the Gryffindor common room. He turned a corner and suddenly heard a commotion coming from one of the classrooms, which was odd considering it was eight at night — classes had been out for a solid five hours.

Harry peeked into the doorway to see what all the fuss was about, and his jaw just about dropped.

There were five six- and seventh-year boys holding up photos of Hogwarts girls in various states of undress, and in all of them the girls were posing or smiling coyly. Harry only caught snippets of their conversation as they all tried to talk over each other, "No no, Parvati should be April — Hannah _has_ to be January — hey, don't forget about Pansy, even if she is a b— I want Susan as October since it's my birth month—"

Harry, having come to understand exactly what this conversation was about, cleared his throat and stepped into the classroom, intending to put an end to this nonsense. A couple of the boys in the room dropped the pictures and tried to stammer out explanations, but Harry held up a hand to silence them. Seeing as Harry had the reputation of killing Voldemort, he wasn't surprised when they all instantly quieted.

"What the bloody hell do you all think you're doing?" Harry demanded, a cold fury in his voice. "Using creep shots to make a perverted calendar? Make some cash on the side by exploiting your classmates, maybe?"

A couple of the boys swallowed audibly, and then an unexpected female voice chimed in from the back corner of the room. "It's okay Harry, the pictures were taken with everyone's consent," said Parvati, who Harry hadn't noticed, being as focused on the photographs as he was. At Harry's baffled look, she explained, "It's for a fundraiser to help Ollivander get his shop back up and running. Even the Slytherins agreed to pitch in." Harry opened his mouth to ask why he hadn't heard of any such fundraiser yet, but Parvati was even ready to field that one, too, and spoke before Harry had a chance to ask. "Please, Harry, as if you would be okay with something like this. That's why we all did it behind your back."

Harry's lips thinned. "I don't like it," he said.

Parvati rolled her eyes. "None of us are naked, Harry. We were trying to raise the most money possible and unanimously agreed this was the way." She smiled slyly at him and said, "We're making a calendar with male models as well, if you're interested."

Harry's ears reddened the tiniest bit. "No thank you," he said curtly. Then he sighed and said, "I may not like it, but if everyone's consenting…"

The boys let out a relieved sigh. Harry had clearly been the obstacle they were worrying about the most — they weren't dumb enough to be caught by a teacher. Harry was seen as the next highest authority figure, though, being Head Boy and all, as well as the savior of the wizarding world.

Then it happened.

One of the boys relaxed a bit too much and a photograph fell from his hands and wafted over to Harry's feet. Harry picked it up, intent on not looking at it, but as he went to hand it back to one of the boys, a familiar sight caught his eye — a wild mane of bushy brown hair.

Harry's brow furrowed and he looked at the picture closer. It was a photo of Hermione in front of a sink in the bathroom taken from her left side, and she was pulling a Gryffindor thigh high sock up her leg. Unlike any of the other photos the boys had, the subject never looked towards the camera. It was as if she was completely oblivious to it. When he coupled that fact with knowing that Hermione would _never_ consent to such a thing...

Harry was absolutely shaking with rage. When he looked back up and met the eyes of the boys, they were shaking too — but it was out of complete and utter terror. Parvati looked confused and warily approached, and then her jaw dropped when she saw the picture. She looked up at Harry, and seeing that he was too infuriated to talk, did so in his place.

"There were three rules. That's it, boys — three," Parvati said, holding up three fingers in emphasis. "Rule 1: All subjects must be 18 or older. Rule 2: No nudity. Rule 3: All subjects must consent to being photographed."

One of the boys managed to find his voice. "W-we just thought — I mean, it isn't even revealing — imagine how the calendar would sell if one of the Golden Trio was in it!" He even managed to smile hopefully despite his shaking knees.

Harry pointed his wand at the table and vaporized the rough outline of the calendar, photographs and all, his eyes reflecting the blaze of anger raging in his chest. "I will consult the Head Girl about this matter and we will decide the proper course of action," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Raise the money another way. If I hear even one peep about a calendar again, I go straight to Headmistress McGonagall, at which point I'm sure you'll spend the rest of your days at Hogwarts skating on _very_ thin ice, if you all aren't expelled on the spot. Do I make myself clear?"

The boys nodded furiously before all but sprinting from the room. As soon as they were out, Parvati said, "I'm so sorry, Harry. If I had known—"

"Just go, Parvati," Harry said, shaking his head. "I need a minute."

Parvati nodded meekly and scampered from the room. Harry took long, deep, controlled breaths until he finally calmed down. He hadn't been that mad since he had tried to use the Cruciatus Curse on Bellatrix Lestrange after she had killed his godfather, Sirius Black. What those boys had done was absolutely revolting, and they had done it to his best friend.

Harry stared down at the picture in anger for a moment before shoving it into his pocket so he could show Hermione, the Head Girl, so that they could decide on some form of punishment. He walked briskly to the common room, broom still slung over his shoulder but no longer whistling a happy tune. He found it hard to find a reason to be happy after learning that Hermione had been taken advantage of.

He gave the password to the Fat Lady and stood at the entrance of the common room, his eyes scanning for Hermione. He didn't see her at their usual table, but did see Ron — showered, dry, and already doing his homework.

Harry sat down next to him, anger still making his throat burn.

"Oi, what happened to you? Get lost?" Ron sniggered as he finished the sentence he had been working on. Then he glanced over at Harry and his brow knitted in concern. "What's happened?" Ron asked in a low voice. He could tell it was serious.

"Did you know about the calendar fundraiser?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.

Ron blanched. "I mean, yeah — everyone knew," he said as if it was obvious.

"And you never thought to tell me or Hermione?" Harry said.

Thoroughly confused, Ron said, "I talked to Parvati about it last week and she said she had already told you two. I was surprised when she told me you both gave the okay, but didn't really think anything of it beyond that."

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Parvati should have had better judgement than this — if she had to lie to Ron to keep Harry and Hermione off their backs, she should have known not to do it in the first place. A bit calmer now that he knew Ron wasn't in on the deception, Harry said, "We didn't know about it." Ron's eyebrows shot up comically. "I didn't know about it until just a few minutes ago after running into their little operation on my way back from practice — that's why it took me so long."

Despite the situation, Ron let out a laugh. "I take it the calendar fundraiser is officially over?" he said. "Idiots."

"I was somewhat okay with the idea when I thought the subjects were all consenting adults," Harry said. He pulled the photo of Hermione out of his pocket and slammed it on the table so hard that Ron's ink bottle almost spilled. "Then I saw this."

Ron stared at the picture for a long few seconds, then he stood up and grabbed his wand. "Those rotten little — I'll teach them what happens when they mess with Hermione," he said. "Where are those idiots, anyway?"

Harry pulled Ron back into his seat. "They all ran back to their own common rooms — I threatened them with Mcgonagall to keep them in line until Hermione and I decide what to do with them," he said. He looked around the common room again. "Where is Hermione, anyway?"

"It's Friday the sixth, mate," Ron said. "She left for her internship at the Ministry while we were at practice, remember?"

Harry cursed. Hermione was interning under Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minister for Magic — she spent the first weekend of every month at the Ministry helping draft new laws and doing odd jobs for Kingsley. She wouldn't be back until Sunday evening.

It was the first time Hogwarts had ever allowed a student to have a job or internship — though nobody was all that surprised, considering it was Hermione they were talking about.

"I'll just talk to her about it on Sunday, then," Harry said as he stood up. He told Ron he was turning in early and headed to the showers, where he spent a long time — he made sure he was completely calm before getting out. He hated being angry, especially in what was supposed to be the euphoric school year following his defeat of Voldemort. Back in his room, he took a quick glance at the photo and frowned at it before sticking it in his bedside table drawer, where he planned to keep it until Hermione came back and they could talk about it.

As he slept that night, he dreamed of Gryffindor thigh highs being pulled up a pair of disembodied legs excruciatingly slowly.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Harry woke bright and early the next morning, excited for his day with Teddy, and quickly stood up to brush his teeth and get ready for the day. He found himself rooted to the spot, though, as the previous night's events came rushing back to him, and he struggled with himself for a moment before opening his bedside table drawer and pulling out the picture of Hermione.

 _Just making sure it's still in here_ , Harry said to himself to justify the action. His eyes lingered on Hermione's thigh for a few seconds. The white flesh stood out starkly against her black robe, and her skirt was hiked up just a tiny bit so she could better see what she was doing. It was more of Hermione than Harry had ever seen before. He was a bit surprised at how nice her figure was, as he most frequently saw her in robes, and even when she wore muggle clothes she didn't exactly wear anything that was tight-fitting. When they were dating, Ron had explained to Harry that it stemmed from a lack of confidence in her appearance, but Harry didn't see how that was possible if her leg was so slender and perfect.

Ron coughed in his sleep and Harry practically jumped out of his skin, his heart racing as he hastily shoved the picture back into the drawer. He went to the bathroom and splashed a little water on his face to calm himself down, taking shaky breaths as confusion and guilt simultaneously set in.

The confusion, obviously, stemmed from him being unable to take his eyes from Hermione's thigh for a moment there. He had never even give Hermione a second thought as a woman. She was just a friend — someone who was always there for him like Ron. Someone he could be himself around without worrying about any type of judgement. Someone who was completely comfortable with him and who could be herself around him. Now when he thought of her all he could picture was her damn thigh peeking out from her skirt and robes. He wouldn't have felt this way about Ron at all, even if he received a similar picture of his redheaded friend — so it was confusing to feel this way upon seeing the picture of Hermione. In his mind, they were in the same category of people who were close to him — well, up until now, at least. He didn't know if he could still say that with confidence.

"Pull yourself together," Harry said quietly to himself in the mirror above the sink he was about to brush his teeth at.

Of course, the guilt stemmed from looking at that picture of Hermione in such a way. She didn't even know it had been taken and he had been drinking in that pale strip of thigh with his eyes like a man dying of dehydration stumbling upon an oasis in the Sahara Desert. He felt like _he_ was the one taking advantage of Hermione, now. He felt dirty and was disappointed in himself — he had let both himself and Hermione down. He was better than this.

After brushing his teeth, he managed to laugh it off. He had been dreaming of thigh highs all night (probably because they were the source of his stress at the moment) and was still groggy from waking up — of course he had looked at those legs. He was eighteen. It could have been Eloise Midgen's thigh (Merlin forbid) and he would have done the same in such a state.

He went down to the Great Hall and had breakfast with Ron, glad for the distraction. It was only half past nine and Andromeda wasn't supposed to arrive in Hogsmeade with Teddy until noon, so Harry suggested to Ron that the two of them go practice Quidditch some more. The first match of the year against Ravenclaw was coming up in just a week's time.

Not only that, but Harry wanted to stay distracted. Despite laughing it off earlier, he was afraid that if left idle, his mind would wander back to the picture in his drawer. Just knowing it was there was enough to get his heart racing. Hermione just needed to get back to Hogwarts already so Harry could be rid of the blasted thing.

Harry and Ron played until eleven, then they both went up to the castle to shower. Harry invited Ron to hang out with Teddy with him — Harry enjoyed seeing his godson's hair turn red whenever Ron was talking — but Ron decided not to go, claiming he had to study for the upcoming exam in Potions. Harry knew by how red Ron's ears became that studying was a lie, but Harry knew what he was really up to, so he gave Ron a wink, a pat on the shoulder, and wished him good luck on his date with Luna.

Harry trekked down to Hogsmeade with his hands in his coat pockets and a scarf pulled up over his mouth and nose to ward away the cold, which unfortunately hadn't dissipated with the rain last night. He walked through the small village while trying his best to avoid the puddles scattered here and there, then finally arrived at the Three Broomsticks at five to twelve. He twiddled his thumbs as he drank a glass of water, and noticed that the place was packed with Hogwarts students, which was par for the course for a Hogsmeade day.

Harry caught sight of vivid red hair in the corner of the room and craned his neck to see if Ron was having a good time with Luna, surprised that they had arrived before him, but was thrown for a loop when he saw Ginny laughing and having a good time with none other than Neville Longbottom.

It made sense why she seemed like her old self back at Quidditch practice last night — she looked very happy with Neville. Harry wondered if there was someone out there for him that would have him looking as relaxed as Ginny did with Neville, and once again a pale strip of thigh and long, chestnut brown hair flashed in his mind. Suddenly feeling quite hot, Harry took his coat off and hung it on the back of his chair.

"You're looking quite flustered," Harry heard a familiar voice say from beside him. He turned to see Andromeda looking at him with concern, and she asked, "Are you alright?"

Teddy was bundled in her arms, reaching out for Harry, who smiled and said, "I'm fine, thank you." He took Teddy from his grandmother and gave the boy's forehead a kiss — Teddy giggled in response and reached for Harry's mouth with inquisitive hands while Andromeda grabbed a high chair for him.

Once they were all settled in, Andromeda gently guided food into Teddy's open mouth while talking with Harry about various things — how school was going, how quidditch was going, if he had decided on a career path yet — the usual things he talked about with her. Harry had visited Andromeda two or three times a week throughout the summer, both for the sake of his godson and Andromeda, who took her daughter's death quite hard, and in that time had formed quite the bond with the older woman.

Harry felt like he could talk with Andromeda about anything — his relationship with her somewhat reminded him of his relationship with Sirius. She was just so easy to talk to and it was quite obvious she deeply cared for both himself and her grandson, and every time he had visited, Andromeda had made sure to serve him way more food than he would ever be able to eat. Harry had mused more than once that his relationship with Andromeda was what he imagined having a grandmother was like, and he didn't hate that feeling at all.

It was quite nice.

Harry had zoned out of the conversation for a few seconds while thinking about how lucky he was to have Andromeda and Teddy in his life, and was therefore very surprised when Andromeda suddenly said, "What's going on with you and Hermione?"

Harry just managed to keep from spitting his butterbeer all over the table, and hastily swallowed it before saying, "What do you mean?"

Andromeda shrugged and fed Teddy another bite. "She came around with you every time you came to visit Teddy — she was here in the Three Broomsticks with us when I visited in September, too. I thought you two were dating and fully expected her to be joining us today."

Harry felt heat rise to his cheeks, which caught him a bit by surprise. He had never become flustered at the accusation that he was dating Hermione before — they both had always laughed it off. _That damn picture_ , he thought angrily to himself.

"No, we were never dating," Harry said evenly. "We've always just been really close friends. I've never even thought about her like that."

"Huh," said Andromeda, glancing over at him with eyes that seemed to see right through him. Then a small smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she focused on Teddy again. "Hard to believe you when your face is as red as that Gryffindor sweater you're wearing."

Harry tried to cover his face with his hand, and in his mind he was cursing those five boys who were making the calendar, as well as Parvati Patil. It was their fault he was like this.

"I can still see your ears," Andromeda said playfully, laughing.

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself, then told Andromeda what happened to him in the past twenty-four hours — he even told her about how he had stared at the picture that morning and how it had made him feel. He knew he could talk to her about something like this and she would never tell another soul.

Andromeda gave Harry a long, silent look, her eyebrows raised the entire time, as if she was waiting for him to see something obvious. It was incredibly similar to the looks Hermione gave him when he should have been picking up on something. "Harry, surely you understand what's happening," Andromeda finally said.

"Yeah, this damn picture is playing tricks with my head," Harry said, a bit stressed out. "I just want Hermione to be back here already so I can be rid of the damn thing."

Andromeda sighed and passed Teddy's food over to Harry so he could feed his godson while she ate her own lunch. "I'm sure that's why you want Hermione back," Andromeda mumbled almost inaudibly into the bite of salad on her fork.

Harry shot her a mock glare, and she grinned at him as she chewed.

"Make sure you talk to her properly tomorrow, Harry," Andromeda said after finishing that bite.

"Yeah yeah," Harry said, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. "Can we drop the Hermione talk now...please?"

Andromeda laughed again and they went back to talking about Quidditch. Hermione wasn't brought up again for the rest of the meal. Harry talked to Teddy a bit, too, though there was no meaningful conversation to be had with someone who couldn't really comprehend what he was saying, let alone talk back. Harry loved telling his godson all about the magical world and what kind of future he had in store for him, and Andromeda always had a smile on her face when Harry chatted with Teddy.

They bade each other farewell at around four in the afternoon after walking around Hogsmeade a couple times so Teddy could see the sights, then Harry headed back up to the castle, where he was grateful to be in front of a fire. He sat down and did his homework, which he almost never did on Saturdays, but once again, he was afraid of being left alone with his thoughts. He had finished a foot and a half of his four-foot History of Magic essay on the Great Wiccan Exile of 1948 by the time Ron showed up in the common room, a great big goofy smile plastered on his face.

"Ah, having a girlfriend you adore is a wondrous thing, Harry," Ron said as he plopped onto the sofa next to Harry. Harry rolled his eyes at Ron's frilly speech — he always turned into a romantic for the rest of the evening after going on a date with Luna. "I've been thinking it's high time you get a new girlfriend of your own," Ron said.

Harry laughed weakly, his conversation with Andromeda still fresh in his mind. "Yeah, that would be something, wouldn't it?" he said, hoping the conversation would blow over.

Ron, sensing Harry's odd mood for once, did change the subject. "How did the day with Teddy and Andromeda go?"

Harry, his mind still on the conversation, stupidly said, "It was fine, except for Andromeda badgering me about getting romantically involved with _Hermione_ of all people." Ron kept oddly quiet at that. Harry wanted to punch himself. He quickly said, "I mean, even if she's our friend, she's your ex-girlfriend, you know? And plus, we're like brother and sister by this point, so it would just be weird."

Harry didn't know who he was trying to convince, and was still baffled by his sudden fixation on Hermione. He didn't understand how this had started with him being captivated by a small strip of thigh on a photograph and ended up with him trying to convince himself that he didn't see Hermione as a potential girlfriend at all.

Ron cleared his throat. It was obvious he felt uncomfortable — Harry hadn't sounded very convincing. "Mate, if you want to go out with Hermione, it's fine. She was way too much for me to handle. If you go for it, I'll just wish you good luck and hope for the best for you two."

"I just told you I don't even see Hermione like that," Harry snapped, suddenly feeling irritated. Why didn't anyone believe him? "I mean, look at the girls I've dated. Cho and Ginny are sporty and extroverted. Hermione's, well...Hermione."

Ron held up his hands in defeat. "Mate, whatever your tastes are that's fine by me. I was just saying I was okay with it, not that you two absolutely needed to date." Ron stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go play chess with Seamus."

Harry nodded, still upset, and Ron took a step towards the other side of the common room before stopping and turning back to him. "As for what you said about my sister and Cho...you do know both of those relationships barely lasted a month, each, right?"

Harry frowned. He felt a headache coming on. "What are you trying to say?" he asked Ron, annoyance lacing his voice.

Ron scratched his forehead awkwardly. Harry could tell he was thinking hard about whether or not to continue with that line of thought. Harry gave him a look that just dared him to do it. Finally, Ron sighed and turned back towards Seamus so they could play their game of chess.

The noise of the common room was becoming too much for Harry to handle as his head throbbed, so he popped out of the portrait hole and started strolling through the castle to do his rounds as Head Boy, even if he was doing them a bit earlier than normal.

It seemed everyone he talked to was baffled by the idea that he wasn't attracted to Hermione romantically. Couldn't they understand that it was just a platonic friendship with no undertones or hidden depth? Harry was more interested in girls that looked like models and were fun, sporty, and sexy. Hermione was the exact opposite of that. While she wasn't ugly, she was plain, bookish, and incredibly dorky. She got passionate about the silliest things, like the whole S.P.E.W. phase she had gone through in their fourth year. Harry smiled to himself as he thought of how happy she had been when making clothes for the elves that year, even if the elves hadn't appreciated it.

 _Only lasted a month_ , Ron's voice said in his head.

Harry shunted those thoughts aside and continued his rounds with a scowl on his face, ready to take points from the first rule breaker he spotted. He was normally incredibly lax about the rules, but something about the day he had went through just had him on edge. He didn't feel like himself.

He also realized that he hated doing rounds when Hermione wasn't there. Normally they would walk around together and talk about this or that — lessons, gossip, nostalgia — which was honestly Harry's favorite part of being Head Boy. There was just something so relaxing and fun about hanging out with Hermione without having to worry about Voldemort or how to keep Harry alive long enough to survive the school year.

 _Just stop thinking about her altogether, you idiot_ , Harry thought to himself, shaking his head of the thought.

Harry managed to finish his rounds without thinking about his bushy-haired best friend again and got back to the common room feeling quite refreshed. Most Gryffindors had gone to bed, but Ron and Seamus were still riveted on their game of chess — there were only a few pieces left standing, and Harry saw a fat stack of sickles sitting between the two groups of battered chessmen beside the board.

Hermione would have normally gotten on Ron's case for gambling, and Harry even had a fleeting moment where he wanted to confront Ron and Seamus for doing such a thing, if only to get back at Ron for his remarks earlier, but Harry felt exhausted. It had been a long day, and his head still didn't feel all that great.

He marched up the stairs to his room and flopped onto his bed, making sure he drew his curtains closed so nobody else would talk to him and plant any other stupid ideas about who to date into his head.

He closed his eyes and tried hard to fall asleep for a very long time — a long enough time for Ron and Seamus to finish their game, Ron gloating over their roommate while the sickles from earlier bounced merrily in his pocket, and then for the two of them to go to bed and fall asleep.

Harry sighed and rolled over, throwing his arms over his eyes as he realized that he wasn't falling asleep anytime soon. That bloody picture was back in the forefront of his mind. He could perfectly picture that damn thigh high Gryffindor sock slowly slipping over Hermione's heel, then over her ankle, up her long, slender calf, over her knee, and coming to rest right on the meat of her thigh.

Harry's heart was tattooing a fast, steady rhythm against the inside of his rib cage as the picture called to him from inside the drawer. The picture was like a Siren — he couldn't resist its call, and soon enough, he found himself reaching over to his bedside table and feeling around with his fingers before finally pulling it out. He swallowed hard, dove under his covers, whispered " _Lumos_ ," and let out a shaky breath as his eyes took in Hermione's leg.

The Hermione in the picture pulled the sock over her knee and stretched it up her thigh, where she let it go unceremoniously. Harry swore he could hear the snap of the fabric against her skin, and he felt his mouth go dry.

Photo-Hermione adjusted the sock a tiny bit, then did something that made Harry suck in a sharp breath. She glanced over her shoulder, right at Harry, and gave him a coy little wink.

Harry brought his head back above the covers, breathing hard and fast. He couldn't hear anything over the sound of his pounding heart.

Hermione wasn't supposed to be aware of the camera in that shot. How was it that photo-Hermione looked over and winked at him? And since when did Hermione wink like _that_?

Harry quietly shoved the photograph back into the drawer and squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to forget what he had just seen.

Hermione wasn't his type. She was his best friend. She was like his sister.

He repeated these three sentences like a mantra in his mind, trying to envision stressed-out-Hermione pressuring him to take Occlumency seriously or to do his homework properly. That caring, bookish, loyal Hermione was the Hermione he knew — not this thigh high-wearing vixen with slender legs that shot him sexy winks over her shoulder.

 _Why can't she be both,_ a sinister voice said inside of Harry's head. _She can be someone who worries and cares about you, completely understands you,_ and _does all the naughty things your perverted little eighteen-year-old brain can think of_. _Perfect girlfriend material_.

"Shut up," Harry whispered to himself, turning over in his bed again. It was a long while before he finally fell asleep, and this time when he dreamed of thigh highs slowly being pulled up a pair of long, sexy legs, the legs were no longer disembodied.

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

Harry woke up and put a hand to his head, sure that he would never be able to close his eyes again without seeing Gryffindor thigh highs on his best friend. He sighed and pulled on his clothes, then headed down to the Great Hall, where most of the Gryffindors were already gathered. They were all laughing and having a merry old discussion, which set Harry on edge. Everything just seemed so infuriating to him right now, when his mind was in this state.

"Mornin' Harry," Ron said sleepily as Harry sat next to him. "What's got you in such a bad mood?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Harry grumbled, shoving some eggs into his mouth so he wouldn't have to talk anymore.

Ron gave him a skeptical look, but said, "As long as you figure it out by the time practice starts."

Harry stabbed a sausage particularly viciously and continued eating without saying a word. He was sure he would be in this mood until Hermione came back that night and he could give her the picture. Then he could get these silly thoughts out of his head and be rid of them for good.

Harry gathered up the members of the Quidditch team that were already at the table and they all headed down to the Quidditch pitch, where the rest of the team was already waiting, to start practice.

Practice didn't go nearly as well as it had on Friday, mostly due to Harry's sour mood. He barked orders left and right and nitpicked so hard that Jimmy Peakes was almost reduced to tears at one point. The joviality and optimism that was present at the previous practice was completely gone.

Harry trudged back to the castle and unceremoniously threw his broom onto his bed before heading for the showers. He stamped out the urge to look at the picture again before it could even begin to build up in him.

He spent the afternoon working on homework that was due the next day, and after a couple hours of mind-numbing focus, he found himself wishing that Hermione was there with him. Homework was never dragged like this when he had someone to talk to and bounce his ideas off of.

He sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingertips, and as even more time passed while he did homework, he found his eyes straying to the clock above the common room fireplace more and more frequently. It was getting close to six, which was the time Hermione usually came back from her internship. He lost focus as he thought of the picture in his room again, and then he ran up to his room to grab it so he could look at it one more time before he never saw it again.

He took a glance at the luscious flesh at the hem of her skirt and swallowed hard, then shoved the picture into his pocket as the guilt set in again. He shook his head and headed back to his homework, berating himself the whole time for treating Hermione's picture like that. He still felt like he was letting her down.

He tried to focus on his homework when he got back to the common room — he really did — but the picture was burning a damn hole in his pocket. His hand kept straying to it and fiddling with its edges before he would take a deep breath to calm himself so he could get back to finishing this stupid essay.

He somehow managed to finish his homework without pulling the picture out at all. He looked at the clock and frowned — it was already half past nine. Hermione had never been kept at the Ministry this late. He decided to wait for her in the common room, seeing as how he had something important to discuss with her.

Time passed slowly. One by one, people filtered out of the common room and up into their own rooms as the night grew later and later, and soon Harry found himself closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the armchair he was in. He closed his eyes and was met with pale white flesh standing out starkly against the darkness, and like that he nodded off.

He dreamed of Hermione sitting next to him in the common room as they did homework. She pushed her hair behind her ear and chewed on the end of her quill, and this time Harry's eyes weren't focused on her legs, which were crossed at the knee, but on her lips, which were plump and enticing. An overwhelming urge to kiss her rose within him and he had to fight to keep himself from acting on it. She stole a glance at him and Harry's breath was taken away as he was drawn into her eyes, which were a brilliant shade of brown. He couldn't look away.

Then she went back to doing her homework and the moment was over. Harry's heart warmed and a slight smile pulled at his mouth as he saw just how focused she was. This was the Hermione he had always known. The Hermione who was his best friend.

"Why are you staring at me like that, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry cleared his throat. "Just lost in thought," he said unconvincingly.

Hermione grinned at him. "I just have to finish these last few sentences and we can do whatever's running through your mind right now. We have the Room of Requirement and our own bath for privacy, after all."

Harry swallowed. Hard.

Hermione wrote those last few sentences and stood up to stretch, and Harry's mouth went bone dry as his eyes finally fell on her legs. Her skirt, which was usually fell to her knees, had ridden up a bit while she was sitting, and when she stretched Harry could just _barely_ see a glimpse of her thighs above her thigh high socks.

She caught him staring and she looked at him playfully, then took the few steps over to him and took his face in her hands. He was lost in her eyes again, and in the back of his mind he registered that she was leaning down to kiss him. Harry wet his lips as Hermione did the same, then he felt her breath on his face, and their lips were only mere millimeters from touching—

"Harry!"

Harry jolted awake, his breath and heartbeat loud in his ears. He opened his eyes and was met with the same brilliant shade of brown he had been dreaming of as Hermione looked at him with worry..

"Were you having a nightmare?" she asked. "I called your name five times."

He couldn't find his voice, so he merely shook his head as he fought down the heat rising in his cheeks. Hermione was awfully close.

She backed up a bit and smiled at him, then asked, "Were you waiting for me?"

Harry, suddenly wide awake, finally found his voice and said, "Yeah, I have something important to talk to you about."

Hermione chewed her lip for a moment and glanced at the clock, which read half past midnight. "Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm utterly exhausted."

Harry really wanted to tell her that it couldn't wait. As the dream weighed heavily on his mind, he wanted to get rid of the photograph once and for all. But he could see just how tired she was. Her shoulders were slumped and she was blinking sleepily — it was obvious she was fighting off sleep.

So he shrugged and said, "Yeah, of course. Meet me in front of the Room of Requirement after breakfast tomorrow — this is something that requires some privacy."

Hermione looked at him quizzically, but assured him she would be there. Harry watched her disappear up the girls' staircase, then happily bounded up the boys' stairs. His hand was on the photograph tucked into his pocket. The guilt associated with it was still present, of course, but he was relieved that he got one more night with it.

It was a long time before he managed to fall asleep.

He woke up the next morning feeling quite refreshed — despite how bad of a mood he had been in the previous day, it was hard to stay mad when Hermione was in the castle, now. He would finally be rid of the picture, the dreams, and the crazy thoughts about making Hermione his girlfriend.

He went down to the Great Hall and downed his breakfast in a flash before practically jogging to the Room of Requirement, where he waited for Hermione for a solid half-hour, pacing all the while. He tried to calmly tell himself that he would simply hand Hermione the photograph and they would handle the situation professionally, but he couldn't help but notice how fast his heart was racing and how sweaty his hands were. He was so nervous his knees were practically shaking.

How was he supposed to stay calm when he had been thinking of little outside of how enticing Hermione's thighs were? How was he supposed to stay calm when he was dreaming about her night after night? How was he supposed to stay calm when all he wanted to do was kiss those soft lips of hers and hold her tight against him?

He let out a sound of frustration, to which came a worried response. "Harry?"

Harry whirled around to see Hermione staring at him with concern and confusion, and he thanked Merlin that he she had finally shown up. It was finally going to end.

Harry told her to wait a moment, and he thought of a room of privacy for the two of them, then hurried through the door when the Room of Requirement granted his wish, dragging Hermione in behind. The room was a replica of the common room, which Harry figured was the room's way of keeping him comfortable for the conversation.

He slammed the door shut and turned to Hermione, who was looking a tad apprehensive. "Er...Harry, what's wrong?" she asked tentatively.

Harry pulled the photograph out of his pocket and handed it to her, a feeling of triumph in him as it finally left his possession. With that, this oddly building desire to make Hermione his girlfriend should be gone with it. It was such a silly notion to begin with.

"A group of boys and Parvati were working on a racy calendar for a fundraiser, and I found this photograph of you in their possession," Harry explained. "I put an end to the whole thing then and there."

When Hermione finally looked back up at him, she had a steely expression on her face. It was obvious the picture upset her, but she was trying her best not to let it show. "I can't believe someone in Hogwarts would do this," she said in disbelief. "Who took the picture?"

Harry blanched. "I, er...I didn't ask," he said, mentally berating himself. How could he have been so stupid?

Hermione sighed. "At least it didn't get published," she said resignedly. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry gave her a smile and said, "Of course. You're my best friend and I just knew you wouldn't consent to that."

Hermione frowned down at the picture again. Harry swallowed hard she started to chew on her plump lower lip. His heart was racing again. He wiped the sweat from his brow, starting to get worried. Weren't these feelings supposed to have passed when he got rid of the picture? Why was he still thinking of Hermione like this?

Hermione looked back up at him and he saw that she was surprised by what she saw on his face. "Harry?" she asked tentatively.

There was only one thing he could do that would put an end to this once and for all, he realized. "T-take off your robe, Hermione."

"Harry!" Hermione sighed indignantly, drawing her robe tighter around herself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's the only way," Harry said. "I...I couldn't stop looking at the picture, Hermione. I felt awful about it, but seeing that picture of your leg, and that long, tight sock made it so I couldn't stop thinking about you all weekend." Hermione's jaw had dropped and Harry couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth. "Until Friday I had never thought about you in this way. I...I just need to see you in those socks in real life so my brain can finally make the connection that the you in the picture and the you in real life are two different people — then we can go back to the way things have always been."

Hermione's eyes shined with some emotion that Harry couldn't quite put his finger on. It was a look he had never seen on her face before.

"Yeah, okay," she suddenly said as she unbuttoned her robe. "Whatever it takes to knock some sense into that head of yours."

Harry sighed in relief. He had been afraid Hermione was going to be disgusted with him, but it seemed things were going to be alright.

The robe dropped to the floor and Harry had to resist the urge to let his jaw drop. Hermione was wearing a long-sleeve Gryffindor sweater that hugged her body in all the right places, her usual skirt that rested at the knee, and long red and gold socks that disappeared under the hem of the skirt.

"I started wearing thigh highs a few weeks ago because my legs were getting chilly during Herbology," Hermione explained as she fiddled with the hem of her skirt. "If I had known they would have this effect I would have started wearing them well before that."

Harry was about to ask her what she meant by that, but then Hermione pulled her skirt up a bit and Harry had to suck in a breath. There it was. That soft, pale strip of thigh that had Harry in a tizzy all weekend.

"Merlin's beard," he whispered in awe.

It was everything that had been in the picture and more. He wanted to touch them to see if they were really as soft and smooth as they looked. And the way the tops of the socks dug into her skin — Harry was sure it didn't get any better than this.

Harry's hand twitched and he licked his lips, then frowned when Hermione let go of her skirt and covered her thighs back up.

"There you have it," Hermione said, her face scarlet. "The real deal."

Harry shook his head. "No, that can't be right," he said, half-talking to himself. He laughed nervously. "Now I'm even more confused." Hermione was looking at him impatiently, still blushing like crazy. "I...I'm sorry, Hermione."

He turned and made for the door so he could leave. He was having a hard time breathing and he was sure if he sweat any more he would pass out from dehydration. Instead of finally putting this thing to rest, Harry was finding himself even more attracted to Hermione than ever.

Hermione grabbed his wrist, though, making him stop dead in his tracks. Where Hermione's fingers touched the heel of his hand, past the edge of his robe, little jolts of electricity shot up Harry's arm. He turned around took at her, and found that she was mustering up her courage.

"Why are you sorry?" she finally asked.

"You're my best friend — like a sister," Harry said, wishing she would let go of his arm. "I shouldn't be thinking about you like this."

"Is it really that bad if you are?" Hermione asked, a bit hurt. Her eyes seemed a bit darker now, as if there was a raging storm swirling within them. He couldn't look away.

"Hermione?" he said, baffled. Surely she felt the same way he did about their relationship.

He merely blinked and Hermione's lips were against his, the sound of surprise lost against her mouth as she kissed him, their bodies pressed against each other. Harry's hands went to her waist to push her away as Hermione's arms found their way around his neck, and Harry's hands merely ended up resting on her hips, holding her in place. He was incredibly confused about everything that was going on, but there was only one certainty he felt in the back of his mind: he never wanted Hermione to stop kissing him.

When she finally pulled away from him, the sudden lack of warmth from her mouth left Harry's lips feeling cold. He staggered back a few steps and sat on the replica of his bed, trying to process everything.

"Is that something a sister would do?" Hermione asked, half-angry and half-embarrassed, her cheeks incredibly pink. She was panting just as hard as Harry was.

Harry licked his lips and tasted vanilla. His mind was racing. Hermione had just kissed him and it had been the most amazing moment of his life. But that couldn't be right — he liked sporty girls. He heard Ron's voice in the back of his head again, reminding him that his relationships with 'sporty' girls had only lasted a month at best. He thought back to his conversation with Andromeda and how surprised she was that he and Hermione weren't dating.

And it all made sense.

He didn't want someone sporty — sporty girls were too much for him to deal with. They tended to move at their own pace and didn't stop to fully understand Harry and all of his nuances and his troubled past. They were too absorbed with their own problems, too high-energy, and always wanting to look good next to him without wondering exactly what he wanted out of the relationship.

Harry had already long since come to the conclusion that Hermione was the opposite of sporty girls, and he now realized that it was exactly that which made her so great. She already understood him — she knew everything about him and had known what made him tick since they were in their third year. She had already accepted him, faults and all, and, if Harry was reading the situation right, still liked him romantically despite all that. That's why his brain had been telling him Hermione was perfect girlfriend material — the only reason he hadn't already made the connection awhile ago was simply because he had never tried to find out if he was physically attracted to her, as well. The picture had done that for him, though — all he had needed was that tiny push.

All those little feelings he had been having throughout the school year and this weekend made so much sense now, such as why his favorite part of being Head Boy was doing nightly rounds with Hermione. Or why he always thought of her first when he was in a sticky situation. Or why he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest when she was so passionate about something that most people wouldn't think twice about.

"Oh, I get it," Harry said proudly as everything clicked into place. "None of my other relationships worked because I liked _you_ this whole time. I convinced myself you were like a sister to me to explain why it hurt to see you with Ron." He eagerly looked at Hermione for verification.

She smiled in a mixture of relief and happiness, making Harry's stomach turn pleasantly. How had he been so stupid to think that he didn't like Hermione in this way? Why did he fight this feeling for so long? He felt absolutely amazing now that he had come to terms with it.

Hermione walked up to Harry, who was still seated on the bed, and bent down, and he tilted his head up, expecting another kiss. Instead, he felt Hermione's hand go into the front of his robe and tuck something into his shirt pocket. She smiled teasingly with their noses inches apart. "You can keep the picture as a reward for coming up with the correct answer," she said.

Feeling bold, Harry reached out blindly towards Hermione's legs without taking his eyes from hers. She jumped a tiny bit when his hands brushed against the tops of her knees, right where her skirt fell, and her breath hitched as his hands slowly inched their way up under her skirt and to the top of her socks. His heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest as she inched closer and closer to him, her hands on his shoulders to keep herself from falling on top of him.

"Harry," she whispered, her eyes falling shut as his fingers finally brushed against the bare skin of her thighs.

As he grabbed them more firmly, he couldn't help but be amazed that they were even softer than they looked. She kissed him again, slow and passionate, and he fell back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him, his hands never leaving her thighs.

"Holy Merlin, Hermione," Harry panted when she broke the kiss.

Her hands were on his chest now, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck under his left ear and said, "Let's skip Potions," she mumbled. "I don't want to go to class now."

Harry, understanding the feeling, completely agreed. Her gave her thighs an affirming squeeze and she made a noise that Harry never knew she could make — one that made jolts of excitement course through his body.

At the rate things were going, Harry couldn't help but feel they weren't going to be making it to any of their classes for the day. He knew they shouldn't skip, being Head Boy and Girl and all, but he didn't give a damn with Hermione's weight and warmth on him the way it was.

A thought struck him. "Hey, how do we punish the boys who were making the calendar, by the way? They did take that sneaky shot of you."

Hermione brought her head up and kissed him again. "Mmmm," she mumbled thoughtfully against his lips. "I have an idea."

o.O.o.O.o.O.o

 **7 Months Later**

Harry smiled as Ollivander cut the tape to the Grand Reopening of his wand shop and waved to the moderately sized crowd that had gathered for the ceremony. The crowd started dispersing after a smattering of applause.

Harry pulled Hermione a bit closer to him — she wrapped an arm around his waist in return and leaned her head on his shoulder. "With every little great thing that happens, everything becomes a little more normal," she said contently. "I love the wizarding world more and more with each passing day."

Harry kissed the top of her head in agreement, then the two of them walked arm in arm toward The Leaky Cauldron so they could floo to their flat, which they had moved into together the day the train had taken them back to London following their graduation.

Before they could reach the famous wizarding pub, however, they were stopped in their tracks by some familiar faces.

"You happy now?" the boy Harry thought might have been in Ravenclaw asked. "Only sewed until it felt like my bloody fingers were going to fall off."

Another boy, this one a Hufflepuff — Harry was sure of it — said, "Could have raised so much more money doing something else."

Hermione unwrapped herself from Harry and shrugged. "Should have thought of that before you took a creep shot of me in the bathroom," she said.

The Gryffindor boy, who didn't seem quite as angry as the others, asked, "But why did you have us knit — the stupid muggle way — thigh high socks, of all things?"

Harry grinned a secretive grin, his hand furtively fiddling with his girlfriend's skirt. She had taken to wearing one of her many pairs of thigh highs almost every day, and she even had them on now, in the heart of summer. Skirts were a regular part of her daily attire when she wasn't working, too, just so she could tease Harry whenever she felt like it.

He loved that side of her — the side he never knew existed until just a little over half a year ago.

"We had our reasons," Harry said, giving nothing away. The boys muttered angrily under their breath as Harry and Hermione laughed and pushed their way through so they could go home.

"Don't know why they're complaining," Hermione said as they stepped into the pub. "They got off easy, if you ask me."

"They aren't very bright if they thought they would get away with taking a creep shot of _you_ , of all people," Harry said.

"Says the guy who still has that creep shot, and even went so far as to pack it with the rest of his things as he left Hogwarts," Hermione said, mock-frowning at him. "Even though he has the real thing right in front of him." She grabbed his hand and brought it to the edge of her skirt, her lips inches from his, making his heart race. He glanced around and saw that, thankfully, nobody was paying them any attention.

"What's our schedule like?" Harry asked, his mind blank but for the image of Hermione's thighs seared into his brain.

Hermione kissed his lower lip and said, "Only thing planned is dinner with Ron and Luna."

Breathing hard, Harry somehow managed to pull himself together enough to break away from Hermione and practically drag her to the fireplace, where he threw in a handful of floo powder that he had been keeping in his pocket.

"Seems like we'll be busy until then, after all" Hermione said, grinning at her boyfriend as she stepped into the fire before him and flooed to their flat.

"Merlin," Harry breathed in awe, his mouth going dry.

Who needed sporty when Hermione had thigh highs?

 **A/N: I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feel free to leave a review if you have the time.**


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